"We don't understand either, Itani-cha. Not precisely. We're only sure
that it's something terrible," the carter said, and Otah's mouth dropped
open. He spoke with the voice of Amiit Foss, his overseer in House
Siyanti. Amiit grinned beneath his heard. "And we're sure that it isn't
happening to you."
The first few breaths after she woke were like rising new horn. She
didn't know who or where she was, she had no thought of the night before
or the day ahead. There was only sensation-the warmth of the body beside
her, the crisp softness of the bedclothes, the netting above the bed
glowing in the captured light of dawn, the scent of black tea brought in
by a servant with cat-quiet footsteps. She sat up, almost smiling until
memory rushed in on her like a flood of black water. Idaan rose and
pulled on her robes. Adrah stirred and moaned.
"You should go," she said, lifting the black iron teapot. "You're
expected to go on a hunt today."
Adrah sat up, scratching his back and yawning. His hair stuck out in all
directions. He looked older than he had the day before, or perhaps it
was only how she felt. She poured a howl of tea for him as well.
"Have they found him?" Adrah asked.
"I haven't heard the screams or lamentations yet, so I'd assume not."
She held out the porcelain bowl. It was thin enough to see through and
hot enough to burn her fingertips, but Idaan didn't try to reduce the
pain. When Adrah took it from her, he drank from it straight, though she
knew it must have scalded. Perhaps what they'd done had numbed them.
"And You, Idaan-kya?"
"I'm going to the baths. I'll join you after."
Adrah drank the last of the tea, grimaced as if it was distilled wine,
and took a pose of leave-taking which Idaan returned. When he was gone,
she took herself to the women's quarters and the baths. She hardly had
time to wash her hair before the cry went up. The Khai Nfachi was dead.
Killed horribly in his chambers. Idaan dried herself with a cloth and
strode out to meet her brother. She was halfway there before she
realized her face was bare; she hadn't put on her paints. She was
surprised that she felt no need for them now.
Danat was pacing the great hall. The high marble archways echoed with
the sound of his boots. There was blood on his sleeve, and his face was
empty. When Idaan caught sight of him, she raised her chin but took no
formal pose. Danat stopped. The room was silent.
"You've heard," he said. There was no question to it.
""Tell me anyway."
"Otah has killed our father," Danat said.
"'t'hen yes. I've heard."
Danat resumed his pacing. His hands worried each other, as if he were
trying to pluck honey off them. Idaan didn't move.
"I don't know how he did it, sister. There must be people backing him
within the palaces. The armsmen in the tower were slaughtered."
"How did he find our father?" Idaan asked, uninterested in the answer.
"He must have found a secret way into the palaces. Someone would have
seen him."